


Solitaire

by AbsolutelyIris



Series: The Long Way Home [6]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Death, Depression, F/M, Gen, Isolation, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Female Character, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyIris/pseuds/AbsolutelyIris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm fine, Logan. I'm fine.” “You don't have to be.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitaire

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Marina and the Diamonds song [Solitaire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDI44Xhq7Tk).
> 
> Special thanks and love to [disdainfullady](http://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfullady/pseuds/disdainfullady) for doing that beta/read-through thang and for being such a vital voice of encouragement and knowledge to me. Thank you.

It was just for one night. She needed the company and it was just a game.

It isn't like she's doing anything wrong, it was just two pals hanging out in her apartment on a Saturday night, drinking and playing a couple of games of poker. Except the pal wasn't Mac. Or Wallace. Her perfect poker partner was across the ocean in another time zone doing God knows what, so his replacement was a certain ex-boyfriend-slash-co-private-eye-slash-kinda-friend.

God, she could see the confused, suspicious flit of Logan's eyes already.

A part of her was bringing this paranoia on herself. She and Leo sat in her kitchen at the tiny table, beer and cards spread out, the rest of the apartment lights off, low music coming from the living room. They're sitting across from each other and she finds herself smirking at Leo's wide smile. Pony sits at her feet and it has become a pretty good night. Easy. Normal.

“I wouldn't get so excited,” she sets down her cards before picking up her beer. “I'm _so_ kicking your ass.”

Leo sighs, leaning back in his chair. “See, if this were strip poker, I would have brought my A-game.”

“If I had known strip poker was on the agenda, I woulda left my A-game at home.”

Veronica's smile is gone as soon as it had appeared and she jumps to her feet when Leo's eyes cloud with something she doesn't want to place. The tension in the room has set thick, she can feel her chest tighten oddly. It's a peculiar feeling, not exactly panic. She can feel the kitchen floor tilt as she moves to the living room and begins turning on the lights. Living room, hallway, lamps.

A possibly futile effort. Complete visibility of bodies, mouths, hands, eyes never stopped her and Logan. She wishes then she had just declined Leo's offer of company. She wishes she had just run inside and gone to bed with Pony. She wishes Logan had never left.

She stops at the hallway light, almost resting against the wall. Her fingers slips on the switch as her mind works, tries to think of a way to cut the night short without making any of this more awkward than it needs to be. They could still stay friends, _super_ friends even, if she could just think of the right excuse and remain cool, calm and collected throughout. Why was it so hard to think all of a sudden?

She wishes she were a better person.

Her eyes close as she feels Leo behind her.

* * * * *

She finds herself barely holding it together as she rocks, her fingers pressing into that tanned back, those muscles. She bites back a moan, her eyes fluttering shut when his hand buries itself in her hair. His other hand clutches at her ass, holding her firm against his chest as he meets her thrusts. Her cheek rubs against his in a daze, her fingers curling in his short hair, the nails of her other hand digging into his shoulder. A particularly hard jerk of his hips makes her cry out and she spreads her thighs more, tightening on his hips.

Logan leaves in one day - no, in _hours_ , his bag is already at the door, his uniform hanging outside the closet like a fucking elephant in the room. Their sex was rough, hard, almost frantic, the clock was ticking and their bodies knew it.

She meets his gaze, clinched around him and he lets out a grunt, gripping her hair tighter. His face buries against her neck as he thrusts at an angle, getting a moan out of her. He groans at the sound of her pleasure, he always does, and jerks his hips harder. Precision is his skill in every task he does and the angle and speed has her crying out, clutching at him. He's relentless, growling out profanity laced words of encouragement when she leans back, trying to get maximum pleasure.

He lets it happen until every part of her is rigid and her face is taut with painful ecstasy to jerk her back to his chest, gripping the back of her neck as he forces her gaze on his. He fucks her harder, watching the pleasure on her face as she cries out, his teeth gritting when she bounces harder on him. She is too close to care about discretion anymore and she lets out something close to a scream when she comes, sensation overload overwhelming with Logan's hand on her breast, his mouth on her neck. When she's done, she keeps moving, wanting him to come, to come inside her, to give him at least that. His eyes stay on hers until the last possible moment, a harsh groan escaping him as he thrusts up. She bites on her bottom lip, tightening her grip on him, taking in the moment, trying to keep it in her memory.

Later, she lays burrowed between his side and arm, watching their entwined fingers floating above her line of vision. Her legs twisted over his, both refusing to interrupt the moment, the smell of sea salt drifting through the open window.

His fingers drag over hers before lacing back together again. “I don't want you to be sad,” he murmurs.

She glances up at him, a smirk already on her face. “ _Uh_ , after that performance, I'm exhausted, but not sad.”

“Tomorrow. Next week,” his words catch, like they're a sleeve snagged on a loose nail, the struggle of holding back that emotion a sharp, jagged nail. “Next month. Four months.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, leaving a reassuring kiss on his skin as their hands lower to his chest. “I'm _fine_ , Logan. I'm fine.”

“You don't have to be.”

The next morning, she hugs him tight from behind when he's in his dress slacks and unbuttoning his shirt from the hanger. He releases the shirt and turns, embracing her firmly. It was safe here, with him. It couldn't be taken from her, it just couldn't. She blinks back tears as he whispers into her hair, over and over-

“It's okay...it's okay...it's okay...”

* * * * *

Veronica meets one of her downstairs neighbors while on a walk with Pony, Beth Lahey née Chua. A pretty, slight woman of thirty-one, who always went on a morning run around seven every day. Beth, whose husband of four years Andrew was also in the military, the Air Force, and whom was currently deployed. Beth, who decided to stay in Neptune due to the beautiful weather and scenery, and had a job at the Neptune Grand as a front desk clerk. Beth, who even with one earbud out, spoke like her music was up to eleven, and always merrily.

Beth was certainly a talker.

“I saw when your husband left for duty, he's handsome. I was so excited! Not because he was leaving because that sucks but because since we're so far from a base, I thought I was never going to see another wife but...” Beth gestured at Veronica and Pony with the hand holding her earbud, her black ponytail swinging as she speedwalked beside Veronica. “Here you are!” She gave Veronica a bright grin. “It's kismet, isn't it?”

Veronica blinks, stopping as Pony stops to sniff around a parked car. Beth walked in place in front of her, Rihanna blasting from her earbuds. “I guess it is.”

“You know, I almost didn't catch up with you today. Andy told me, _Betty, leave her alone, don't be a creeper_ , but you're really nice, you know? It's good to make friends,” Beth grins, giving Veronica a shrug. “My name is Elizabeth, Andy's the only one who calls me Betty but you can, if you want!”

Beth pulls on her light blue tank top, running after Veronica as Pony pulled her down the sidewalk. “You walk fast! So I think we should hang, Ronnie. You-”

“ _Veronica_ ,” she cuts Beth off, rubbing her lips together. “It's Veronica.”

Beth nods with a smile. “Of course! Sorry. But we should hang out, get some drinks, you and me and this beautiful girl right here. Like, on the beach!”

Veronica laughs, flustered. “I-I don't know...”

Beth continues on as if Veronica hadn't spoke, flipping her ponytail behind her shoulder. “I think Andy and your husband might come back around the same time?”

“I think so.”

Her eyes lit up. “We can all go to dinner! A couples thing. Andy will love you, and you seem kind of the strong and silent type so I can be the ray of chatty sunshine!” She laughs suddenly. “Imagine we get pregnant around the same time? Our kids would pretty much be siblings! Oh, I want a girl...my everything and Andy's eyes...”

Veronica began to realize Beth was incredibly lonely. Her own mode was to retreat, Beth's was human contact, she craved it. She would let Beth down easy. “Uh, I work. I'm a detective, so my hours are weird...”

The smile on Beth's lips falters and she nods quickly. “Okay! Well, I'm downstairs, apartment 211. You're in apartment-”

“310.”

“I'll remember that, I have an amazing memory.” Beth gave Veronica a smile. “I'll see you around, have a wonderful day!”

Veronica had almost forgotten about the run-in with Beth until that night. She slows in front of her door, her eyes narrowing at the small, shiny gift bag hanging from the knob. _DEPLOYMENT SURVIVAL PACK!!!_ was written in bubbly block letters on a purple index card tied with glittery string to the rope handles, along with a phone number, presumably _Eliza(Beth) (Betty) xoxo's_.

Veronica had to laugh at the contents. Chocolate, liquor, a DVD of Top Gun and a brand new, still sealed pink vibrator.

She got Beth's voicemail on first ring and she sighed, leaning against the refrigerator as a smile played on her lips. “Beth, hi, it's Veronica. I have an appointment tomorrow but if you want to get some takeout and watch some Netflix, I should be home by six. Let me know, good night.”

* * * * *

Something odd starts to happen a week after Logan's absence. A delivery of nine roses are delivered to Mars Investigations. No note, no anything. Five reds and a scatter of pink and yellow and orange and white. She's unusually touched the first time, unable to say a word as even Mac and her father look moved by the gesture. It's a surprising change from the abrupt silence which always came from them whenever she brought Logan up before.

She keeps the roses on her desk, waiting for that moment of solitude to breathe them in.

A month passes, and there's another bouquet delivered. Five reds and a scatter of pink and yellow and orange and white. They seem much brighter than the last batch. She nearly cries this time, the sentiment and yet another sleepless night almost too much. She's tired, so very tired.

She holds it together as her father squeezes her shoulder, and waits for that moment of solitude to breathe them in.

Three months gone, and the sight of them angers her, these grandiose reminders of Logan's absence. She knew Logan probably thought these monthly presents to be romantic but she only saw them as torture, a method of continuous taunting and pain. She made a mental note to email Logan later, to tell him in no uncertain terms to stop sending her flowers or to stop the automatic shipments or whatever the hell he had cooked up before he left.

Her ire grows red hot when her father's waiting client coos at the sight of them in Veronica's arms after she thanks the delivery girl. The client - Veronica doesn't care to learn her name- smiles happily, her full face lighting up and there's almost hearts in her eyes as she breathlessly says “Oooh, _someone's_ loved! Do you know the colors symbolize different things? Red is obviously love, but pink means gratitude, white means new beginnings, orange is very rare and means passion...”

Veronica looks the woman directly in the eyes as she continues, the words “yellow means happiness and friendship” barely out of her mouth when Veronica drops the flowers in the trash. She ignores the shocked expressions on both the woman and Mac's faces as she mutters “I'm going to lunch” and walks out of the office.

* * * * *

The relief comes swift. She actually laughs, leaning against the sink as her hand falls to her side.

Negative. The test was negative.

She laughs again, rubbing her face as Pony trots into the bathroom, looking around. The last thing she needed was to have that kind of surprise waiting for Logan when he came home, a bloated stomach instead of just her. He didn't exactly say no to wanting kids when they talked about it over lunch one afternoon, but heavily implied he preferred to wait a bit. She had responded by saying she wasn't sure if she wanted kids at all and he said that was fine, but secretly, she found herself wondering. Wondering if she could, if they could.

As soon as the relief was there, it had vanished, and a strange feeling coursed through her. A faint disappointment. The knowledge that even while she bit her lip raw with anxiety, there had been the whispers of 'what if' there, the brief moments of wondering how she'd tell him, the seconds of random baby names floating around in her stream of thoughts, the flash of cautious excitement over the unknown. It was bizarre, really. She had never had those thoughts before, had never thought she wanted them at all. It was never a possibility, never even considered. Until now.

When an email from Logan drops in her inbox, she doesn't mention a word of it, instead sending a super long email which he'll love, where she'll talk at length about her comings and goings with enough detail to make him feel for a moment like he's not missing out, and she'll tell him how big Pony's getting, and how her dad's doing, and what she and Mac had for lunch, and she won't tell him at all what happened in their bathroom one morning at 6am.

* * * * *

They get into a fight on their first Skype call since his departure because, _of course_ they do.

Logan's visibly on edge for reasons he can't tell Veronica, which pisses her off. Veronica is cagey about what she's been up to in retaliation, which pisses _him_ off. She can see the way his jaw clenches, the darkening of his eyes, the stiffness of his posture, he's trying to hold it together. He's trying not to snap at her.

It would be easier in person, she thinks. They could be irritable with each other until the tension bubbled over into yelling and then he'd crush his mouth against hers and they'd fuck hard against the refrigerator and after they'd both come and got cleaned up, they'd start over more calm and relaxed. It's easier that way.

This way, the way Logan chose for them, is harder. She sits with her arms crossed, he's chewing on the inside of his cheek, and neither are talking. She's pretty fucking worried and her mouth isn't moving to tell him that and it's just utterly frustrating. It's a complete waste of a call until-

“I just don't understand why you can't tell me what's going on-”

Even with the delay, Logan jolts up fast, ready for that comment with- “I already told you I will tell you when I get home. It's my job, and it's something I take very seriously. Sorry I can't break the rules for you, Veronica.”

She blinks rapidly, uncrossing her arms as she sits up. “I'm not asking you to break the rules for me, Logan. Maybe if you'd stop mumbling _confidential_ and start actually _talking_ to me-”

“I'm talking right now. We're talking. So fucking talk.”

Veronica freezes at the coldness of his tone, nearly deflating back into her chair. She pushes her hair back, for a bizarre moment regretting her outfit of a t-shirt and business jacket. Maybe she should've went with a tank top that showed off her cleavage, something tight. Maybe that would've helped, that could've put him in a better mood. “I hate when you act like this, just stop.”

“Look, I'm on borrowed time so you better talk.”

As soon as the desire to please him was there, it was gone, replaced by the irritability which drips from her tone as she icily responds, “ _Don't_ talk to me like that.”

Logan's shoulders slouch as a heavy sigh escapes him. “I'm sorry. About everything. Maybe we should've-”

The feed goes dark, and Logan is gone.

She sits in a stunned silence, waiting for him to return. He of course doesn't and she's forced to repeat it all in her head. When did it all go south? When she first spoke? When he did? Before anyone said a thing? What the hell happened, it should've been a happy meeting after three weeks of nothing.

A sliver of dread slides down her spine as she's left to consider what Logan was about to say with “maybe we should've.” Should've _what_? Started the conversation differently? Broken up?

It doesn't scare her that she thought the latter was what he had been aiming for. What scares her is the fact that she was _ready_ for it and ready to agree, if only for a moment.

That feeling doesn't last long. When she sees the subjectless email from Logan three days later, she prickles with anxiety. Logan was better than a “dear Jane” letter, he wouldn't do that. Would he?

She clicks the letter open on her phone in her parking spot at Dog Beach, Pony sitting beside her, tail wagging as she watched passing dogs and their humans. Her brain seems to check out before she starts to read, perhaps a self-preservation measure. Her mouth sets as she reads, readying herself.

_I'm sorry for everything. My behavior was unacceptable. I miss you and I think maybe I should've stayed. My fault entirely._

_Can we talk soon? I want to hear your voice, even if you're yelling at me._

_Look, romantic gestures you hate: xoxo_

_L_

Veronica lets out a breathless laugh at her own silliness, shaking her head as she quickly responds.

     _Yes. Always. Call me whenever you can._

_V_

Pony fidgets beside her as she stares off to the distance, not lost in thought, not lost in anything. Silence. Silence in her mind, there's no thoughts at all. She doesn't know _what_ to think.

She could be honest with Logan. Tell him that maybe they should take a break, maybe they both need to think. And yet, deep down inside her, she knew if he would agree to it, it would be World War 3. It was hard enough to have these feelings and be unsure of what to do with them, but to have to deal with the maybe-truth that Logan might want the same thing? It wasn't even worth thinking about, there was no need to upset herself.

It was all bullshit, anyway. She wanted Logan. That was her decision to stay, even when Logan had offered to move to New York with her. It was her choice to stay with him, to take on everything the relationship would entail. She knew exactly what this would all bring, he had been honest with her about it, and she didn't care.

She definitely wanted Logan, and everything which came with it. She was strong, they would survive it.

With a heavy sigh, she shuts off Logan's car, giving Pony a sidelong glance. “Ready to play, girl?” she says with a grin.

* * * * *

She gets bored one day at work and writes _Veronica Echolls_ on a piece of paper. She stares at it, examining it like a science project. It's foreign, she repeats it in her head again and once more, it doesn't sound right, even if it flows smoothly. She tries _Veronica Mars Echolls_. Then _Veronica Mars-Echolls_. None of it sounds right.

She jumps as her father walks in, quickly ripping the paper from the notepad. As her father talks about the horrible service at Panera Bread, she shreds the evidence of her daydreaming.

In bed that night, she emails Logan, partly out of boredom, partly because she can't stop thinking about him. It's almost comforting. It would be more comforting if she could turn to him and tell him everything she's thinking, but this would have to do.

_Hi,_

_Don't get excited but if we ever get married, I'll be keeping my name. Seriously, don't get excited. I'm just thinking out loud. We're just doing the to and fro here, buddy. I'm being serious, don't be all smiley when we talk next time._

_V_

_P.S. I really miss you. You don't have to respond._

* * * * *

Out of anything, Veronica had convinced herself she wouldn't grow knowingly resentful. She would be positive and patient and punctual for chats and any other p-word she could think of that fit. She would read the military wives blogs for advice and she would make sure to have a smile on her face when she was able to video chat with Logan. She would do everything she was supposed to do, was expected to do.

It sneaks up on her. Little things. Avoiding answering his emails for a day or so. Annoyance at happy couples around her. Shoving his clothes out of sight in the closet. Pretending not to hear her father when he asks how Logan is doing. Hearing a band he likes on the radio and turning it off in a huff. Waking up sad and then getting angry at herself. It's little things like that.

The resentment grows, toward Pony for wanting Logan, toward herself for feeling aggravation toward a puppy who just wants her daddy, and toward Logan for leaving them both this way. She gets mad at herself for daring to consider a family with Logan, because surely it was going to be more of the same. She would be stuck with a dog and a child or children who all prefer their father to her and she would be stuck, stuck in her grief and loneliness.

She would prefer to just be alone. It would be easier that way.

* * * * *

They do a month without contact. A whole month. Logan doesn't respond to emails, no cam sessions, no phone calls. Veronica knows not to freak out, he warned her this could happen.

It starts to drive her just the slightest bit mad. She jolts up at every phone call, she puts the volume up on her laptop in case he calls, carrying it into the bathroom and leaving it on the sink as she showers. She grows ansty and starts to avoid Beth, unable to deal with the reminder. She gets mad at Wallace and Mac for being unable to hang out when she needed them, gets annoyed at her father for wanting her to come over when all she wanted was to be alone in her anxiety.

Thirty-four days pass and then she misses his call. Just misses it. If she hadn't stopped to chat with Mac about fucking doughnuts, she would have caught it. She's too stunned by her bad luck to even cry, numbly putting the phone to her ear and listening to the voicemail. There was too much static, she had to raise the volume on her phone to hear.

_“Veronica! I guess you're busy. I'm still alive, don't know when I'll be able to do this again. I miss you so much, baby. Don't worry about anything, I just wanted to hear your voice. Your voicemail greeting is music to my ears. Okay, there's a line, I have to go. I love you, babe. Bye.”_

It's another twenty-seven days.

* * * * *

Logan fell in love with her in a t-shirt and jeans- a leather jacket when she really wanted to capture his attention. Leo, in red and with a pizza.

When he invites her on a stakeout, she shows up in a red t-shirt and red lipstick, holding a box for the long night. He laughs and compliments her look and she grins happily, the attention is nice.

God, she misses attention from a man. Flirting she actually wanted, heated gazes, hands on her. She misses laughter and easy conversation and not having to fucking worry about where her partner was since it wasn't like she could just call him whenever. It was getting harder.

This wasn't something she could just ignore until he got back. Logan's presence was everywhere. On his side of her bed, the potato chips he likes in her cabinet, his shoes thrown in her closet, his towel still hanging in her bathroom. In her mind, in her bones, in her heart. He haunts her.

So she accepts this night of investigating and harmless flirting with Leo. It's fun. It's a nice change from being depressed all the time, from waiting and sitting alone in her apartment with a puppy still sniffing around for her daddy.

When Leo kisses her on the cheek as he drops her off, she freezes up. She doesn't respond, just gives him a weak smile as she makes a swift exit.

It means nothing. It's just some harmless fun.

* * * * *

The depression hit suddenly and with utter precision, right to her heart. It happened after staring at the wall across from where Logan used to almost block her vision, before he left her. She had thought Logan's departure would be easy, she had done it before, right? This was their life now, and she wouldn't see him in the flesh for at least another six months.

And even with knowing that, the sadness crept in without warning. Her eyes began to fill with tears, knowing she can't talk to Logan when she wanted, touch him when she wanted, kiss him when she wanted. The loss was more than she anticipated, she hadn't expected this big of a hole in her chest, mere hours after.

She just got him back and now he's gone.

She didn't bother wiping the tears as they fell down her cheeks, on her pillow, blurring her vision. She allowed her crying to become a wracked sobbing to grow into a hoarse scream of rage.

When she was done, her throat was raw, her head hurt, her hands shook from burying her nails into pillow and skin. She was still empty, only bones and skin and loss. The allowance of pure grief did nothing, fixed nothing. She wouldn't do that again.

She didn't sleep the first night gone.

* * * * *

They manage to speak at three in the morning when she's half-asleep and feels her body responding to his low voice, even through the static. The chime from Skype wakes her and she's puzzled to see audio only but at least it's something. They talk about nothing important beyond how they're doing and how's Pony and the new burger Veronica tried at the Shake Shack but still, she feels herself get worked up.

It's been too long. She had gotten spoiled, gotten too used to having him around, so accustomed to being willingly used and using him in return- she had fell back into the rhythm of constant happiness and pleasure at her disposal and her body was paying the price now. She could have sworn she had more self-control twenty minutes ago.

Her hand slips between her legs as they talk and she has to laugh when he abruptly stops the conversation with his silence. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

She laughs again, keeping her voice as measured as possible but the breathing, the breathing was always a giveaway. “Listening to you.”

He exhales sharply, and she starts to grin when he chuckles. “Okay. I have to go.”

“Why?”

“You know why. Discipline. Too many ears.”

She shifts and angles herself just right, letting out a shuddering breath. “What are you doing?”

“Absolutely nothing. You're a horrible person, do you know how cruel you're being?”

Her hips rise to meet her hand and she lets out a loud gasp, biting on her bottom lip for just a moment before gasping out- “See what you're missing?”

“I regret everything. God, I wish you were recording it,” he pauses, then a whispered- “Don't stop, okay? Even when we hang up?”

“Don't go until I'm-”

“Do it like I showed you,” neutral words, said in a perfectly balanced, practiced voice for listening parties. He clears his throat and she can hear loud talking around him. “And it'll work.”

“Oh, it's working.”

“Discipline will be taught when I get home,” he coughs and she bites back a giggle. “The...the dog needs to be heavily trained and disciplined.”

“Strict discipline. No mercy.”

“I love you too, bye.”

Veronica laughs at his quick escape, dropping her phone and continuing on. She doesn't need much after hearing his voice, his grunts and moans are imprinted in her memory, she has all she needs...except him. Her orgasm is only satisfying for the seconds during, immediately after is emptiness, she doesn't have his weight on her or between her thighs. His breathing on her neck. His hand in her hair. There's nothing.

Her gaze drifts to his side of the bed before she can stop herself. There's nothing.

* * * * *

Time stops on a Thursday afternoon.

It's a cool day, Veronica remembers that. She feigned a migraine to get out of the office early, the evenings of sitting alone in her own sadness were becoming scheduled in her daily itinerary. It's become addictive in an odd way, her solitude. Who needed companionship, she had a hyper puppy and Portishead to keep her company.

She freezes at the stairwell, watching two men in formal military garb close the door of their vehicle. Two outside, the driver remains in the vehicle. They check a slip of paper and walk toward the apartment building. Her jaw clenches as she stands, watching them with wide eyes.

She doesn't bother to prepare herself for anything, she hadn't ever thought to prepare herself. This wasn't supposed to happen.

They climb up one flight.

She waits, her fingers digging into the railing. They don't reach her landing, instead she hears a knock on the flight below. It hits her that they weren't in Naval dress. Oh _fuck_ , Beth.

A door opens and Beth is screaming.

Veronica finds herself running up the rest of the steps, running to her apartment. She fumbles for her keys, she could still hear the commotion downstairs. Other doors were opening, people wanted to know what was happening. But not her. She needed to get away.

Pony dashes around her excitedly and she ignores her, dropping her bag to the floor as she walks around in a daze. She blinks rapidly as she turns on her iPod deck, raising the volume until her ears are ringing but she can no longer hear Beth's wailing below.

Her hands continue to shake and she clenches them tightly, nails digging into skin as she sinks to the floor. She ignores Pony plopping down beside her, inhaling deeply through her nose. She's at once shocked and appalled by the sudden relief coursing through her, then. She didn't know she could be so ugly, so selfish. It's a shock. She knows the grief and pity for Beth will come, but at that moment, on the floor as her hands shook and her heart pounded, she was relieved.

All she could think was _I'm so happy it wasn't me._

_So happy._

* * * * *

“Leo, you need to go.”

Veronica's jaw clenches at the slight surprise on Leo's face and she slips past him, getting the hell out of the suddenly narrow hallway and back into the open space of the living room.

She starts turning on lamps, seeing where Logan and she sat while watching a movie, where he pressed her against the front door as they made out after getting dinner, the spot on the floor where he started teaching Pony how to sit, leaning against the counter as food cooked and she told him about a new case, where he would mumble a good morning and squeeze her hand before going to the bathroom. He was everywhere.

Her fingers tighten on the doorknob as she swings the door open, pushing her hair behind her ear with her free hand. “I have to get up early,” she says, watching as he gathered his jacket from the other room. “Thanks for the awesome time.”

Leo stops in front of her, his brow furrowing. “Veronica...I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I wasn't-”

“It's not about you,” she cut him off, holding the door open wider. “It's me. I'm super tired and have to be up early. Good night.”

He moves to hug her and she turns her head away, not touching him as he embraces her loosely. She ignores the faint confusion and hurt in his eyes, waiting for him to leave. As soon as he's out, she shuts the door, turning all of the locks in place.

Pony stares up at her and she raises her eyebrows at the dog before walking to the kitchen. She had to clean up, the place was filthy.

* * * * *

Veronica finally gets the nerve to go downstairs, two days after Beth got that visit. She had decided to give her time, she knew she wouldn't have wanted so many people surrounding her. She waited until it was more quiet, so she could talk to her in private.

She stops in front of Beth's open door, clutching the bouquet of lilies tightly to her chest. Two men come out of Beth's apartment, one man in his teens and the other older, with a salt and pepper beard. Both look a lot like Beth's husband, his brother and father, surely. “Hi,” she says stiffly.

The older man slows in front of her, the younger walking around them with a box. “Hello.”

“Is Beth there?” she realizes how weak her voice sounds and quickly clears her throat, making her voice stronger. “I'm Veronica, I live upstairs. We're kind of friends. I-I heard and just wanted to give her these.”

The man's gaze soften and he holds out his hands. “Nice to meet you. I'm Richard, her father-in-law.” she nods, handing over the flowers and he continues. “Elizabeth is with our family. We're taking her home,” he pauses, his gaze lowering briefly. “Andrew's coming home soon.”

She shakes her head, gazing at the flowers for a moment. She's surprised at the tears in her eyes and she inhales sharply, trying to will her body to stop them. “I am so, so very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Veronica. It was nice meeting you.”

Veronica steps to the side as Richard walks past her. She waits for a moment, for what exactly, she's not sure, before turning and walking back up the stairs. With each step, the guilt feels heavier. She should've gone to see Beth sooner. She shouldn't have run away that day. She shouldn't have avoided her. She should've been a better friend.

She resolves to call Beth. She'll wait a day and call. Even if Beth doesn't pick up, she'll leave a voicemail, let her know she was there for her.

The email to Logan stays blank for the longest time, she drinks a beer to relax herself, to perhaps get the thoughts flowing. She doesn't know how to say what she needs to. It was getting harder and harder.

Finally, she sets down her beer, lifting her fingers to the keys. She was just going to say it, it didn't have to be a big deal. He would appreciate it, and she really needed to say it. She wished she could say it face to face. Maybe she would when he got back.

_Hi,_

_I just wanted to say I love you._

_V_

* * * * *

This case was taking a bigger toll than she thought it would. Even through the determination to get justice for these victims, for Grace, she could still feel the weight. In the quiet moments in her apartment, when she sat alone, it was the worst. Being alone was something she dreaded, now. She didn't like to be left alone with her thoughts.

Case in point: standing in the middle of one's bedroom, staring blankly at the bed wasn't exactly the best show of a strong and sane mind. No one would hire a detective who was doing that.

She stiffens as she feels Logan behind her, her eyes closing as he leaves a kiss on the top of her head. “Hey.”

He rests his hands on her shoulders, rubbing her skin with his thumbs. “You okay?” he whispers against her hair.

She nods quickly, pulling away from him. “Just thinking. This case is kind of kicking my ass.”

“If you need to talk...”

Veronica laughs, shaking her head. “Why the hell would I need to talk? Don't be silly, Logan.”

Logan nods slowly, watching as she made her way to the bathroom. “I'm here, you know that.”

She avoids him for about two hours, staying in her room and working on the case while he sits in the living room with Pony, watching some shoot 'em up movie. He doesn't call for her or move from the living room, giving her the space she needed. No insisting she talk, no demanding her to drop the case, he just leaves her be. He knows her too well.

Finally, the distance is too much and she fidgets for a moment before shutting her laptop and climbing out of their bed. She walks to the living room, catching Logan on the couch, Pony with her head on his lap. Logan looks up at the sight of her, lowering the volume on the television.

Veronica gives him a weak grin, shrugging. “Got room for a pain in the ass or...”

Logan nods with a faint smile, holding out his arm and she walks over, taking the spot he had opened up for her. They don't speak, he lets her take the remote and raise the volume, and they watch that horrible movie. It was a much needed distraction.

* * * * *

The beach was unusually nice and quiet for nearly seven at night. The weather was cooler, some people were wearing jackets now. Veronica sits on the sand, removing her shoes and setting her bag down beside her. The sun was starting to set, and she was glad to be there to see it.

She wished Logan was there to see it, he loved sunsets to an embarrassing degree because he was a big sap behind the sarcastic exterior. He loved it. She would watch for the both of them, maybe take a picture to send to him.

Logan wasn't coming back for another two months, if all went well. He couldn't tell her what was going on, all he could say was arrival was still on schedule. All she could take was what he said as fact, at least optimistic hope. It was all she could hold on to.

Until then, she would do more of the same. Get up in the morning to him not there, make breakfast and coffee for one, walk Pony alone, go to work. Come home to an empty house, sit and enjoy the solitude and the comforting pit of sadness for an hour or so before she forces herself out of it and continues to do her normal routine. She'll hang out with her father and Wallace and Mac. She'll continue to work. She'll carry on.

She'll wait.

Veronica digs holes in the sand, burying her fingers. She doesn't reach for her phone or camera.

Her gaze drifts out to the water, the sky in the distance starting to glow orange and red. It's a beautiful sight, a changes of hues in technicolor, the waves of the water soothing to the roar and static in her mind. It's just a wonderful, welcomed change from the emptiness of her apartment. It's open here, she has the entire world at her feet as she sits and stares.

Waiting.


End file.
